The week of August arrived with a drizzle. The sky looked tired, painted in shades of gray, and the whole college was soaked in a kind of quietness only rain could bring. But inside me, a storm was growing. I didn't know whether it was because of her silence or my own growing feelings.
That morning, I reached college early. The corridors were wet from students walking in with dripping umbrellas. I stood under the roofed corridor, watching her from a distance.
She hadn't spoken to me much since few months It wasn't anger. It wasn't hate. It was something else — like she wanted to say something but held it back.
In the lab, our seats were changed again. I was shifted two rows behind her. That felt like a punishment. Every time she smiled at someone else, it hit harder than it should have. My friend nudged me, noticing how quiet I was becoming.
"You okay, ?" he asked.
"Yeah," I lied.
But inside, everything felt out of sync.
Later that day, something happened.
We were walking toward the canteen, and she passed me by — her eyes meeting mine for a second, and then… she smiled. That smile wasn't random. It was like a whisper only I could hear.
I turned to follow her with my eyes, but she was gone.
The next day, I stayed back near the lab after class. I told my friends to go ahead. I didn't know what I was waiting for. Maybe fate. Maybe her.
And then, she came.
She was walking alone, holding a notebook in her hand. She saw me, paused for a moment, and then walked up.
"You waiting for someone?" she asked casually.
"Yeah," I said. "You."
She blinked, surprised. "Me?"
I nodded. "I wanted to ask… why did you stop talking like before?"
She looked away. The rain had started again — light, but steady. Drops tapped gently on the tin roof.
"I didn't stop," she said softly. "I just… got scared."
"Scared of what?"
She looked at me now — straight, no hesitation. "That maybe this is more than just friendship."
There it was.
The truth, raw and unexpected.
I didn't know what to say. My heart raced. My hands went cold.
"I feel it too," I said, finally. "But I didn't want to ruin what we had."
She smiled, this time with her eyes too.
"Then let's not ruin it," she said. "Let's let it grow."
That evening, we didn't walk home. We stood in the rain, no umbrella, no fear — just two people who had stopped hiding from their hearts.
And maybe, just maybe, that was the real beginning.
The first lab session after New started with the usual chaos—scrambled logins, confused eyes, and screens full of codes that didn't make sense. But for me, something was different.
I had walked into the lab just hoping for a normal day, but then I saw her.
She was already seated at her system—same old red file on her lap, her water bottle placed beside her laptop like always. The moment she looked up and saw me, there was a flash of something in her eyes—recognition...and something else I couldn't read.
"Hey," I said as I sat down beside her. " how are you "
She smiled softly. "I'm fine . How was your break?"
"Good," I lied. The truth was, I had thought about her way more than I should've. That one dream had replayed in my head like an echo: 'I'm waiting for you.' It didn't make sense, but it had left a strange weight on my heart.
That day in the lab, we didn't speak much. Our systems became our excuses—clicking, typing, pretending to be busy. But in those silences, I noticed things.
She was quieter than usual. Her gaze drifted often—out the window, at her watch, sometimes down to her notebook like she was trying to write something but couldn't. There was something she wanted to say. I could feel it.
During the break, while most of the class walked out, she stayed.
So did I.
"Hey," I said, breaking the silence. "You okay?"
She hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah. Just...thinking about stuff."
I didn't press. But in my heart, I knew she wasn't telling the whole truth.
When the bell rang and everyone filed back in, she tapped her pen nervously. Then, just before our professor entered, she leaned toward me and whispered something that almost made my heart stop:
"If I say something...promise you won't laugh?"
I froze, eyes wide. "Yeah. I promise."
But then—she shook her head, chuckled softly, and looked away and say "Never mind."
"No—hey—wait, what were you gonna say?"
But she had already turned back to her screen.
That sentence, left unfinished, haunted me the rest of the day.
After lab, I followed her silently through the corridor. Not talking—just...curious. Or maybe hopeful. She walked with that same bounce in her steps, her backpack swinging lightly, hair tied in a loose ponytail. I wondered if she even remembered the first day we met, or how she once called me "lab partner," half-mocking, half-friendly.
Now...I wished she'd call me that again. Just once.
Outside the lab building, she suddenly stopped. Looked at the sky. Then she turned to me.
"You know...I used to hate labs," she said.
"Yeah? Why?"
"I don't know," she said with a soft smile. "Maybe because I hadn't met you yet."
She didn't wait for my reaction—just walked away, blending into the crowd.
And I stood there, stunned.
That evening, I stared at my notebook. So many feelings. So many unspoken words.
And only one thought repeating in my mind:
She remembers everything too...Or forgetted . im confused and the day as ended.